


Bad Luck Roulette

by animerag3



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Can be in canon universe or alternate universe, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grif is a good boyfriend, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:11:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animerag3/pseuds/animerag3
Summary: Simmons and Grif decide to go on a road trip, by themselves, far away from the Reds and Blues nonsense.  However, Simmons has never really had the best of luck with...well, anything.





	1. Shouldn't Have Driven

**Author's Note:**

> Aight, so this fic was originally called Bite and was only supposed to be a chapter about Simmons panicking about a potential bug bite, but it expanded and has now turned into this longer fic loosely based on real events that happened during my own vacation. Just spruced it up and added some much needed Simmons/Grif fluff. If some of the chapters seem familiar to you, you probably read this while it was under the title Bite.

"Hey, Simmons." He continued to ignore Grif. He needed to concentrate on his driving. "I know you need to take these curves slowly being on a cliff edge, but you might need to pull over soon."

Simmons had seen the line of cars in his rearview mirror. He knew he needed to let them pass, it was dangerous to back up traffic on steep and sharp inclines. But the last pull off was so small, and right on the road curve, it had seemed too dangerous to do. He hadn't seen one since then, and he was sure more cars were behind him than he could see. 

The rain wasn't making him feel any better about this situation. One wrong turn and he could be taking them over the cliff. Or getting rear-ended. 

He had wanted to drive. He was never a great driver, and this road trip he and Grif had decided on seemed like a great way to practice. Grif hadn't complained. Grif may love driving, but trips worked best when the drive time was split. It had been Simmons' turn this time. 

And he regretted it so much in this instant.

He didn't do one-lane roads well, where you have to cross into the oncoming traffic lane to pass. He didn't do cliffs or mountain driving well. He could do it. That wasn't the issue. It was the throbbing in his hands, the knot in his chest, and the tense, taut muscles from how nervous and anxious he was about everything around him and everyone behind him. That was the issue.

He saw a big pull off. A car was parked in it, but there was room for him to get in it. He had seen it too late though, hearing the siren before he saw the red and blue lights behind him. 

"Fuck!" Simmons exclaimed. He pulled off where he had intended to, now in trouble for he was sure going too slow and impeding traffic. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Simmons' hands gripped the steering wheel as he saw the officer get out of his truck. He didn't know what he was going to say, he hadn't been pulled over by police before, he always followed the rules and laws, what would the officer say to him, oh shit, oh shit, the officer was approaching the vehicle…

"Shit, I'm going to have to dig for registration papers if he asks," Grif commented, not helping the panic racking Simmons.

The officer was finally at the window, and Simmons reluctantly rolled it down, trying to put on a friendly smile that most likely looked twitchy and psychotic. 

"Hello sirs, how are you doing?"

"Good, sir," Simmons got out, voice cracking and heart beating rapidly.

"Now, you have been going very slow. First time here and driving this?"

"Yes, sir."

"You nervous?"

Simmons didn't know what the correct answer was here. Yes, he was shaken to his core, the cliffs were making him jumpy, Grif had commented on it, he hadn't felt comfortable at the pull-offs he had seen. But would he get in trouble for saying that? 

"We both were, officer," Grif responded for him. "I kept telling him to slow down, I was getting freaked out, and some of the pull-offs didn't seem safe at the time. We are sorry, we didn't mean to hold everyone up." 

Simmons looked over at him wide-eyed, wondering why in hell Grif was covering for him, lying to an officer.

"Just to let you guys know, it is a serious offense to impede traffic here, especially on these cliffs." Simmons could feel his heart freezing, no no no, he couldn't get in trouble, oh god, was the officer going to ticket him? Take his license away? "You could easily cause an accident. Just let these cars pass and keep it in mind for later." The officer nodded at Simmons and retreated to his truck.

Simmons could feel his arms unfreeze and start to shake. He was numb and overwhelmed. He had wanted to prove he could do all this driving himself and had proven exactly the opposite.

“Holy crap, I can’t believe that worked and we didn’t get ticketed. Fuck yeah!” Grif exclaimed. 

Dejected and still coming off the adrenaline high, Simmons shakily said, "when he leaves, we are switching, you drive."

He felt Grif eye him. "Dude, it's fine, just wait for everyone to go and-"

"No," Simmons said more firmly, watching the cop drive off down the cliff. "You are driving." The truck disappeared and Simmons opened his door, getting out. Thankfully, Grif didn't argue, he went into the driver's seat as Simmons settled into the passenger's.

He refused to look anywhere but out the passenger window. He was still shaking. His body was running through a gamut of emotions, and all he wanted to do was cry. Cry at the stupidity of the situation. At being pulled over. At being such a wimp he was crying over being pulled over. At being so sensitive he was always an anxiety-filled wreck.

He took a few slow breaths, doubling numbers in his head to try to keep himself from breaking into a sob when Grif finally spoke.

"Are you ok?"

Simmons never understood why. Why that question always made it worse. Even when he was completely happy and sane, that question would make tears escape his eyes. It was pathetic. And exactly what happened.

"Yeah," Simmons practically whispered, refusing to turn his gaze any direction but out the passenger window.

He felt the car slow down and begin to pull off. "What are you doing?" Simmons asked, still doing his best to clear his blurry vision.

He felt the car get put into park. Silence filled the vehicle and Simmons could think of nothing but how Grif must see him now, judging him, internally laughing at him for this.

"Simmons, look at me." Simmons closed his eyes. The voice sounded concerned enough, but he knew Grif. Everything was a joke to him. Even this.

Yet, he willed himself to hold in his tears as he turned to look at Grif. He could do this. He'd lied many times before and gotten away with it. He could do it again. He could…

One look at the concerned brown eyes had tears streaming down his face in no time. It was all so stupid. It wasn't fair. Why was he so goddamn emotional and sensitive?

"Simmons, what's wrong? And don't say nothing, that doesn't work when you are crying." 

"I-" he tried to get out, but was cut off by gasping. Grif waited patiently until Simmons could finally speak, and when he did, his thoughts were so jumbled his speech was equally as fucked.

"It was my first time being pulled over and it was for something so stupid as going too slow, how pathetic is that, and it's not like I'm a confident together person with people I'm comfortable with, of course I'd be a stuttering mute when challenged by an authority figure, and I've never been able to do anything but follow authority figures and please them because how else do you become something in society, and of course I'd be riddled with anxiety of everything I do on top of this and take everything so emotionally that I break down and cry from getting pulled over and how fucking pathetic is that and...and…" Simmons felt like there should be more to this awful excuse of word vomit, but he didn't know what else he could say and just continued letting the tears trail down his face, trying to keep more from falling in their place.

"Hey," Grif spoke after Simmons' ramble. "It's ok." Two, four, eight, sixteen- "Simmons, I know what anxiety attacks are. I've seen you try to hold them in when we are around the rest of the team. Do what you need to do to get it out of your system." Thirty-two, sixty-what? "If you need to cry, hyperventilate, breathe, sleep, whatever, do it. You don't need to hold it in around me. It isn't good to anyways."

Simmons just stared at Grif. Grif stared back, eyebrows knitted in concern. Simmons just bent his head over his legs and let everything out. He felt the car begin to move, and Grif let him have his breakdown with no further comment.

They had just started this...whatever this was between them. Simmons had fears of ruining it. He was afraid Grif would hightail it, away from him because he actually couldn’t handle neurotic Simmons as more than a friend. But maybe, just maybe, they knew each other well enough that in the end, it didn't matter.


	2. Unknown Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons and Grif wander through an old cemetery. It hasn't been maintained and is filled with vines and overgrowth. That doesn't stop Simmons from trying to find his ancestors' graves. That is until the back of his calf starts to sting.

"Oh, Grif! Look at this! I think I found them!" Simmons jumped over the brush and vines covering the ground, thorns from the bushes clinging to his clothes. His heart beat rapidly, barely containing his excitement as he approached the headstones in the unmaintained cemetery.

"Oh, gee, I'm ecstatic," Grif monotonically stated. A sigh escaped Simmons. He knew that dragging Grif along one of these genealogy offshoots during their trip was boring for his partner, but he wished Grif would at least try to appreciate the historical prominence these people once had. Simmons wouldn't be here if these people hadn't lived their lives the way they did. Plus, it was taking Simmons’ mind off of the cop ordeal that happened the other day.

He stepped up, reading the plaque overgrown with all varieties of plants. Knowing his shitty immune system, he will be itching like there was no tomorrow after this. But he had to see if one of his ancestor's graves was here. He was barely able to make out the weathered stone, but sure enough, he was at the right spot.

Grif stood next to him, glancing around at the jungle mess surrounding them. Both of them didn't want to think about the creepy crawlers that currently resided here. Especially snakes. Simmons didn't know what he would do if he saw one. It didn't stop his excitement though as he took out the good camera and started snapping a few photos.

"Quick, hand me the water!" Grif obliged, Simmons uncapping the bottle and pouring it over the headstone. The etchings on the stone slowly became more visible. He dropped the empty bottle, getting a few more pictures that he could only hope would turn out well. 

"Grif, can you get a photo of me with the headstone real fast?" Simmons handed Grif the camera without an acknowledgment, picking up the stick he had been using earlier to push down the clump of branches webbing over it. 

He finally managed to win the fight with nature, Grif snickering at his struggle behind him. Simmons scoffed as Grif backed up as far as he could. He tried to pose himself despite knowing all efforts to look decent in any photo would be futile. He took one more step back.

A sharp pain hit the back of his calf. He barely contained a hiss as he took a step away. Stupid thorns. They littered the damn place, couldn't twitch without being torn to shreds. He looked down to see where the thorn was, see if he could maneuver around it. Wait…was that a bug? With a fuzzy body? Hovering? Oh shit. He just got stung, didn't he? It was a bee or wasp, wasn't it? He didn't stay in the spot to debate it, scrambling away towards Grif in the event it was an angry wasp taking it's rage out on him.

"Shit, I think I just got stung." He did his best to keep calm and not just fly towards the gate to get out of this insane overgrowth. 

"I see it," Grif said as he bent forward towards the damming creature. Simmons turned around to get a better look. Only to see a giant, fuzzy, red and brown spider reeling itself up towards a higher branch on the bush. Ascending right from where Simmons' calf was.

Simmons was vaguely aware of his heart speeding up in a panic. He couldn't help but stare in abject horror though, as the idea of being bitten by something that looked like _something_ continued to hover on its small piece of thread, legs curling in and out as it dangled and climbed.

"Let me look at your leg, are you ok? Are you sure it bit you?" He could hear the slight strain in Grif's voice, the attempt at being calm, yet unable to hide his panic. Simmons just continued to stare at the spider, managing to mutter "I'd rather not look at it if it did." 

Grif turned around, looking for the spider that had managed to blend into its environment. "Where did it go?" Simmons held up his hand, pointing at it, still somehow numb with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The spider kept his attention, mesmerized by its graceful dance around the leaf it was now on. He heard the snapping of the camera and let his eyes wander down to Grif. Who was taking photos. Of the spider. Of all the times he could take photos, why the hell would he do it when Simmons could have potentially been bitten by a poisonous spider-

Shit. That's why he was taking photos. If Simmons had been bitten by something horrendous, they would need to identify it. Here Grif was, doing the things that might keep Simmons alive while Simmons just stared at the offending creature during a panic attack. Brilliant, Simmons. Extra points to the one who seemingly had no survival skills.

He felt a hand grip his upper arm and start to drag him away. He blindly followed, aware of Grif cussing in front of him and barking at him to stay close. His heart was still thumping in his chest rapidly. Oh my god, what if he died from this? I mean, it's not like death is a scary concept to him, but to go out like this? From something he could probably squash with his foot if he wasn't a coward? 

They made it out of his ancestors' cemetery and into the clearing. "Pull up your pant leg," Grif demanded. Simmons reluctantly did as he was told. As much as he didn't want to, his curiosity got the better of him and he looked at his leg.

To find nothing. Not even a scratch. He was positive he had felt something at the very least stab him. There wasn't even a small puncture mark. Nothing. 

Grif was still questioning him as Simmons finally became fully conscious of his rapidly beating heart, his breaths shortening and limbs starting to shake. "Where does it hurt? Are you sure it bit you? Where is it? How are you feeling? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Simmons finally got out. "I just- I thought I felt something sting me. I could have sworn-" the rest of the adrenaline kicked in and with his hormones now completely out of whack, Simmons couldn't help but let tears escape his eyes. After all of that…nothing had happened. And he didn't get to take a photo with the headstone.

His vision blurred, the air harder to get into his lungs. Grif's hand found its way to his back, massaging soothing circles to calm him down. 

"Hey," Grif said. "It's ok. That motherfucker freaked me the hell out as well. I'm glad it didn't get you, the last thing I wanted was to have to take you to the damn hospital on vacation."

"I didn't get the picture," Simmons muttered.

"You got a picture of the grave you wanted to see. That's more than you previously thought you would get. Unless you really want to go back in there-"

"No," Simmons quickly said. Grif chuckled. "I mean, I would like to, I shouldn't let something like that get to me, but I can feel the adrenaline wearing off and all I want to do is crash."

"Then I guess we are done here," Grif said. "I'll drive, you look worn out."

Simmons was grateful for the offer, curling up into a ball in the passenger's seat and letting the lull of the engine drift him to sleep.


	3. Known Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons was, thankfully, not bitten by anything poisonous. But did he really walk away with nothing?

The next day they went to a couple more of Simmons' old family cemeteries, none of them maintained once again. Simmons and Grif wholeheartedly decided not to go in them, no need for a repeat of yesterday. At the very least, Simmons was glad to have been able to visit the sites, taking pictures of the areas and few headstones he could see over the gates. He had wished he could have seen them up close, but even just being in the area was more than he could ask for.

Everything had been going well. Grif sat in the passenger seat bored out of his mind, finally happy they would be getting food soon. First stop was the hotel to change, then Grif would get to pick where to eat for at least not putting up a fuss with Simmons during this part of the trip.

He hadn't been aware of it. The itch behind his knee. Simmons had just been absentmindedly scratching at it, not giving it a second thought. Not until he probably had been doing it for the last five minutes did it occur to him that he probably was bitten by a mosquito or something. Just his damn luck too. What was it with bugs and their practical desire to make his life miserable? 

The engine was shut off in the hotel parking lot. Simmons was already halfway out of the car when he saw Grif jump out of the corner of his eye. Grif hurriedly grabbed a napkin and smashed it against the cubby in the car.

"What was it?" Simmons nervously asked.

"I don't know. Looked like some kind of stick bug, maybe? Still flipped me out." Grif took the napkin to the trash can. Simmons continued scratching the back of his knee.

They went up to their room, Grif heading for the bathroom first. Simmons took off his pants, might as well see what was causing this damn itching spree all of a sudden. Yep, it was a bug bite. Though it looked bigger than a mosquito bite. Actually, it looked like...oh god, not a spider bite. They just went through this yesterday. It looked as big as one. Wait, that wasn't just one. There was another next to it. And another…oh no. Oh god. The back of his knee looked like there was a line swelling. His chest tightened as he stared at the offending marks.

He heard the bathroom door open. In a surprisingly steady voice Simmons hadn't even known he was capable of, he spoke. "Grif, I think I've been bitten. Actually, I'm not sure what this is."

"Let me see- OH MY GOD!" Simmons felt his chest tightened more at the reaction. If that was Grif's reaction, it must have been worse than he thought. "The back of your legs...those bites don't look good. We are taking you to a doctor."

Simmons felt his blood freeze, goosebumps forming on his skin. "It can't be that bad? Right? I mean, I itched it, that's probably why they look terrible? Right? They aren't even _that_ itchy, I'm sure it is just normal bites from an ordinary bug." Oh god no, this wasn't happening again, they just did this whole freak out scenario the other day, he didn't need this.

"Simmons," Grif grabbed both of his shoulders, steadying him and stopping his word vomit. "I don't care. We aren't from this area. We don't know what it is. I would rather we look like idiots going to a doctor to be told it is nothing than wait and have something spread that could have been prevented. Get dressed and let's go." 

Simmons nodded, turning to his backpack and digging out a pair of shorts to make the bites easier to look at. The nearest doctor’s office was just down the street, thankfully. 

The drive was the quickest part of the whole ordeal. They waited at least forty five minutes in the lobby and another thirty in the patient room. Everyone in town was sick today Simmons guessed, his leg restlessly tapping up and down as horrible scenarios played through his head. 

The practitioner finally entered the room, Simmons explaining his ordeal as Grif sat in a corner silently. The woman politely told them the bites looked like they were from a common crawly bug they had in these areas. Nothing dangerous or to be worried about, but apply itching relief cream because if the itching wasn't bad now (which Simmons felt it wasn't), it will get worse. They thanked her for her advice and with stomachs caving in, went to the nearest fast-food restaurant and stuffed their faces.

"I have a feeling they are from that stupid stick bug I squashed in the car," Grif said. "It probably got attached to your pants and crawled behind your leg and had a feast. Want to stop by a pharmacy and pick up itch relief cream?" 

Simmons thought about it, shaking his head. "It honestly feels like it is getting better, they don't feel itchy at all anymore."

"Are you sure? She said it would get bad."

"Yeah, but I think I had the worst of it earlier. It will be fine." 

"Ok, if you feel so." They headed back to the hotel, making plans for their next destination and settling in for the night. 

It wasn't until Simmons woke up at two in the morning that he regretted his decision to not get itch cream. The bites behind his knees stung more than they had earlier. Every small piece of fabric, even the air being pushed from the A/C, fired up the bites. Simmons managed to arrange himself under the blanket just comfortable enough to get his body to fall back asleep.

And in the morning, he fully regretted everything. He put his pants back on, only to feel crippling pain behind his knees as the fabric touched the bites. He pulled the shorts on instead. 

"How are the bites doing?" Grif asked, toothbrush still in his mouth.

"It hurts so much to have anything touch them that I'm forced to wear shorts today," he responded through gritted teeth. He saw Grif glance down, eyes going wide.

"They look worse," he stated.

"No shit, Sherlock, I can't stop scratching them!" Simmons practically cried out. It hurt to not scratch them, but it hurt so…much...more to scratch them and Simmons' nerves were so frayed from his internal battle already. "Can we please stop before we head out and get the itch relief stuff, I can feel myself going insane."

"Sure," Grif shrugged, heading back into the bathroom. Simmons glanced down at his legs and wanted to punch something at what he saw. 

Not only were the bites redder from his scratching, but there were far more than he realized. He had to have at least ten behind each knee. And he was beginning to see it wasn't just there. He had a few trailing up his inner thighs, and two so close to his groin it made him shiver. And now that he was aware of all of them, they all itched. 

He realized if it was just a few bites, he might have been fine. But so many clustered in one spot? Behind both joints needed for walking? He dug his fingernails into his arms, trying his best to not touch any of them. 

First, it was the scare of getting bitten by a poisonous spider. Now it was being bitten by something not poisonous, but so ravenous it might as well have been as crippling as poison. Simmons was just the luckiest person with low pain tolerance in the galaxy. And let’s not forget he’s already had two breakdowns during this trip as well. Fantastic job, Simmons.

They checked out of the hotel and got three different types of itch relief creams and sprays. Simmons could feel the immediate relief, but a slight itch still stayed there as he continued throughout his day. When they got to their new hotel in the evening, he laid on the side of the bed closest to the A/C unit and let the cold air numb his legs, his upper body shivering. 

"Can I turn the A/C up?" Grif asked.

"No. The cold is numbing the itching," Simmons practically moaned.

"Yeah, but it is also numbing me."

"Suck it up. Feel the numbness."

Grif scoffed. "I can feel you shivering on the bed, it's practically vibrating." 

"So?" Simmons retorted. 

"Fine. Have it your way." Simmons stayed in his position. He waited until he felt most of the itching disappear before he finally brought himself under the covers. Then back out of them. Then more cream applied to the bites. Then in front of the A/C unit. Rinse and repeat. He shut the lights off and heard Grif snoring not only five minutes after he had done so. Lucky ass. 

Simmons got under the covers, but not only did the covers fire up every bite behind his knees, they flared up many more around his ankles he hadn't noticed earlier. It burned. Harshly. Simmons could feel his gums ache from how hard he grit his teeth. He got up to get a t-shirt to bite on, his body begging him for relief. All it did was make his jaw less sore. Every small movement, every small touch, was agonizing. His body was being torn apart. Tears escaped his eyes as he tried to unsuccessfully fall asleep, constantly applying more creams and sprays, wishing they would do their damn job! 

His body would every once in a while get the exhaustion memo, and take a small break to let him sleep. But he woke up every hour, each time worse than the last. He seriously considered taking a knife to his leg and cutting out the blocks of skin. At this point, he'd rather deal with excessive bleeding than this. But he didn't and managed to get a meager three hours of sleep towards the morning hours. 

Grif was surprisingly awake the next time Simmons woke up. Which meant Grif had let him sleep later than he had intended. 

"What time is it?" Simmons asked.

"Close to nine."

"Shit. We needed to leave earlier."

"It’s cool. I know you didn't get much sleep. I could feel you tossing and turning. I'm taking the first shift of driving."

"Ok," Simmons said. "But you're going the speed limit this time, you hear?" 

"But that's no fun," Grif pouted.

"This isn't a damn race car we are driving, Grif!"

"We can make it one," Grif smirked, eyes gleaming with chaotic intent.

"That's not how this works!" Simmons huffed, knowing well enough Grif would try to push his luck with the vehicle. He got the sunscreen out and started rubbing some into his arms when his hand hit a bump in the crease of his elbow and another small sting tensed his nerves.

"Goddammit!" Simmons exclaimed. "I'm going to go crazy if I get any more bites, it's hard enough to deal with the amount I have! I must have at least thirty!" Simmons began hunting all up and down his body, counting each one he saw. He nearly shrieked. "I have over fifty fucking bites, Grif! Fifty!! What the fuck is this! Why don't you have any?!"

"I don't know, bugs don't like me?" Grif said in his sarcastic innocent tone.

"I hate you sometimes, you know that?" Simmons hissed out.

"It's why we work so well together. C'mon, kiss ass, put some lotion on them and let's hit the road."

They packed up and made their way to their next place, Simmons doing his best to navigate as his eyelids slowly started to shut, then jerked awake to the intense need to peel off all the layers of his skin.


	4. Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons is still battling his itching problems when an even worse problem presents itself. Simmons is excelling at bad luck roulette, sadly.

"I wonder what the caves will be like?" Simmons said, trying to take his mind off of the incessant buzz to dig deeper into the red splotches on his legs.

"Hopefully it isn't just a small nothing, we paid a decent price for this," Grif said. "Though seeing a waterfall with epic music at the end might be worth it."

"Yeah. But the wait is gonna be like amusement parks," Simmons stated, noticing the line snaking and bending around the waiting area as they got past the ticket scanner. 

"Jesus," Grif remarked. "My world for a pop tart right now."

"How is it you are always thinking about food!" Simmons bantered. "We could be crushed in that cave and the first thought through your head would be food!"

"In that scenario, yeah. You'd wish you were crushed. Otherwise, you'd end up dying of dehydration and starvation."

"Ok, fine, poor example." They inched forward.

Grif gasped, startling Simmons. "They do have food. Thank the heavens, Simmons stay there and hold our spot, I'll be back."

Grif scampered away, leaving Simmons to sigh at his food-obsessed partner. The line inched forward a bit more. Simmons saw a sign warning everyone that the cave tour was long and this was their last chance to go to the bathroom before passing the single occupant stall.

Grif slid back in, munching on a small cone of popcorn. "Fatass," Simmons muttered.

"Better fat and content than a stick and starving," Grif muffled out through shoveled mouthfuls. 

Simmons let out a disgruntled snort, digging out a handful of popcorn himself while Grif stared daggers at him. The line had shifted enough for them to have completed the first snake through and end up on the opposite side of the room. A couple more times and they would be on the elevator down. 

A sharp stab jolted in Simmons' intestines. He stood there, unsure of what it could be. Was he that dehydrated? No, if so his mouth would be dry. He'd been drinking water all day. Was lunch not agreeing with him? It wouldn't be a first, they had been on the road for a while eating junk food, it was bound to catch up with him eventually. 

He took a step forward as the line shuffled on. Another intense cramp. Shit, he might need to step out and go to the bathroom. The cramp intensified and he leaned on the wall, waiting for it to lessen so he could walk himself the fifty feet needed towards the one he just passed.

His head started pounding. His stomach started to sting on top of it. He needed to get out of the line, something was wrong.

"Hey Grif," Simmons muttered. Grif turned his head, the relaxed countenance wilting as he continued to stare at what Simmons assumed was his own paler than usual face. "I don't feel too well."

"There's a bathroom over there, I'll hold our spot," Grif stated. Simmons nodded, taking a step towards it.

The noise around him dissipated and all that was left was a suffocating silence. Black spots caved in and over his vision. He remembered the bites all up and down his legs. He had been told they weren't poisonous, but was the doctor wrong? Was this it? 

He felt good. It was peaceful. A nice slumber. Simmons was comfortable. He let himself enjoy the deep sleep he was in. He hadn't had a good nap like this in a while. 

"Is he having a seizure?" he heard a muffled voice yell out. That was odd. Who was having a seizure? Was he? He always thought seizures were painful. If he was, he wanted to stay in the slumber he was in. Let the medics figure it out. If he was asleep he wouldn't feel anything. 

Another voice broke through in sharp clarity, familiar and panicked. Grif's. "Simmons, are you conscious? Can you hear me?!" 

"Yeah," Simmons croaked out. He wasn't sure if he wanted to open his eyes, but better judgment told him he needed to know what was going on. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, a woman hovering over him with a wet cloth, dabbing his forehead. He realized he was lying on his side on the ground and not in a soft bed waking up from a nap.

"Are you ok?" the woman asked him. "Do you feel like you can sit up?"

Simmons nodded, though he felt comfortable on the floor. He didn't want to move. But he didn't know how long he had been there for either. He probably needed to move. 

His glasses must have fallen off or been removed. Everything was fuzzy. But he didn't need to see clearly to have the realization hit that he just fainted in front of at least fifty, if not more, people, all still staring at him as a couple of people grabbed under his armpits and sat him upright.

"Does he have seizures? Has this happened to him before?" he heard someone ask.

"No, this isn't a damn seizure," he heard Grif hiss out. "He feels like he overheated. Is there somewhere we can sit so he can rest?" 

"There's a bench over here!" someone called out. 

"Do you feel ok to stand up and move?" the woman who still had a cool cloth up to his head asked. He nodded again, feeling himself get hoisted into a standing position. 

Grif wrapped Simmons' arm around his neck, letting Simmons put some of his weight on him. "How are you feeling? Can you make it to the bench?" 

Simmons nodded again, but the second he took one step, the pain in his intestines flared up. "Bathroom," he choked out.

"You need to go to the bathroom?" Grif asked. Simmons nodded once again, more vigorously this time. He was either going to shit himself or throw up, he wasn't sure which, and he didn't want to do it in front of everyone. They managed to get to it in time, Grif shutting and locking the door behind him as Simmons collapsed on the toilet.

"Are you ok? Simmons, what's up, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's happening?"

"I feel sick and don't know which end it will come out," Simmons gripped his head, praying he could just shit and have this ordeal be over with.

A knock was heard at the door. Simmons heard a muffled "medic" come through. 

"Give us a second," Grif yelled. Simmons was grateful that the pain in his intestines started to lessen as he went to the bathroom. He wouldn't have a burning esophagus on top of everything after all. The knock came again. "Jesus Christ, give us a second!" 

Simmons quickly got himself put together, muttering to Grif that he heard the word medic. "Yeah, well they can still wait till you're decent. Do you feel ok enough to leave the bathroom?"

He was shaky and exhausted and anxiety-ridden, but he couldn't hide here forever. He nodded, Grif opening the door to be met with a woman in a neon vest holding an ice pack. "I didn't know if you still wanted this," she said.

"Yes, thank you," Grif took the ice pack, handing it to Simmons. "We are going to go sit on the bench for a bit and cool him off if that is ok."

"Of course!" the woman exclaimed. Grif led Simmons over to the bench, where Simmons promptly planted his butt and brought the ice pack to his forehead. His head hadn't felt hot to him before, but he could feel the heat radiating off of him now as his body begged to be cooled down. 

A water bottle came into his vision. "Drink up. You need to." Simmons took the water, taking what small sips he felt he could keep down. He saw blurred faces look at him concerningly, making him more aware of what just happened and how it must have looked.

"Do you have my glasses?" Simmons asked.

"Yeah, I have all of your stuff," Grif replied. "Do you want them?" 

Simmons shook his head. He didn't want to see anyone's face in clarity at the moment. He shrank into the bench, wishing he could just disappear.

They sat there for a bit, Grif rubbing his hand in circles on Simmons' back as Simmons did his best to pretend no one was there staring point-blank at him, sipping water and moving the ice around his neck and face.

"How long was I out for?" Simmons asked.

"Not long, but it all happened so fast. Gave me a damn heart attack." 

"Sorry," Simmons said.

"There isn't anything for you to apologize for," Grif retorted. "Is your right knee ok?" 

Simmons quickly looked at the back of his leg, thinking the bites had suddenly gotten worse and he was right about it causing this episode of his. "No, no," Grif said. "I mean, when you fell, your right leg went at a weird angle and I wasn't able to straighten it out. One of the people behind us helped me out, but you are so tall and I was just trying to make sure your head didn't smash into the ground."

"Oh," Simmons said. "Uh, no, it feels fine. As far as I can tell." Grif nodded, both of them falling silent and continuing to rest as more people came in and gave questioning looks at them.

"Do you feel ok enough to do the caves?" Grif asked. "It's ok if you don't. I think this group might be the last tour though." Grif pointed at the back of the line. No one was piling in anymore.

Despite still feeling shaky, light-headed, and lethargic, Simmons nodded, standing up on his own and walking to the back of the line, trying to prove he was alright. They didn't come here just for him to pass out. They were seeing these damn caves, overheated or not!

Simmons held out his hand for his glasses, Grif managing to read his mind and give them to him. He put them on and heard someone shout over to them.

"Hey, if you are feeling better, you can have your spot in line back!" 

Simmons felt himself flush red with embarrassment. There were still people here who saw the whole thing. Grif grabbed his hand, dragging him to the front of the line. "Thank you, sir, thank you!" Grif said, Simmons smiling and silently thanking the guy as they got up to the elevator. 

"You sure you will be fine?" Grif asked.

"Yeah. I'm still a bit light-headed, but I should be able to make it. Who knows, the coolness from the caves might feel good." Simmons could only hope so.

"In any case, walk in front of me so I can at least watch you and try to catch you if you fall." 

"How poetic," Simmons snorted out.

"Shut up, or I tell the rest of the team what happened," Grif said, a small smirk crawling onto his face. 

"Oh god, please don't," Simmons whined. Church and Tucker wouldn't stop teasing him for the rest of his life if this got out to them. 

"Then you don't get to complain." They walked onto the elevator, sending them down into the depths of the planet. 

Simmons was, for the most part, fine during the excursion. He felt slow and a bit dazed, but it didn't stop him from appreciating the natural wonders around him. The waterfall had been magnificent, lovely lights shining around the room as music played. Simmons almost forgot the whole ordeal from earlier. 

Until the walk back to the elevator. His right hip started tensing. At first, he thought it just needed to pop. But when that didn't work and he focused on the pain, he realized it must have been sore from the fall.

What a complete idiot he was.

He walked through it though. They made it back out to the car when Grif stepped in front of him to take the driver's seat.

"Uh uh," Grif shook his head. "I'm not letting you drive until I know you are ok and won't pass out while going sixty."

"I'm pretty sure it was a one-time thing, Grif," Simmons shot back. "Besides, you've done most of the driving the past few days!"

"Which is fine with me," Grif looked up at Simmons. "Look, you've had a rough few days. Let's find a hotel and just rest. We can even take tomorrow off to fully heal up, I'm feeling tired too. We've been pushing it for quite some time. I think we could use the break."

"But then we won't be on schedule for-"

"Simmons," Grif interrupted. "It's ok. We didn't make any reservations we have to stick to. We can bend the rules here. It's just you and me. What, you don't want a day to sleep in and cuddle with yours truly?" Grif wiggled his eyebrows as Simmons rolled his eyes. 

"Fine, but if we miss stuff, I'm holding you to it." Simmons walked to the passenger side, hearing Grif sarcastically mumble "I wouldn't have it any other way." 

Simmons' head went in and out of being a throbbing mess during the ride to the hotel. Cuddling was out of the question, for as soon as his body hit the bed, the bites still patterned down his legs went on full frenzy again. Grif let him have his space, but all it did was make Simmons yearn for his company. All he could do was lay as still as possible, cool rag on his forehead and clenched fists gripping the sheets, doing his best to allow Grif the chance at a decent sleep.


	5. Back Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons convinces Grif this cemetery will be different. Doesn't mean something won't go wrong.

"How did you sleep?" Grif asked, concern seeping through his goop filled eyes. Simmons grunted in response. If he opened his mouth, all that would come out is a snapped response. Their relationship may be built off of snark, but there was a difference between banter and sleep-deprived ad hominem attacks.

"That good, huh?" Simmons glared at Grif over his cup of coffee. It wasn't fair. One thing after another kept happening to Simmons and Grif got nothing? What kind of fucked-up universe did they live in? What did he do to deserve this?

"I want to stop by another cemetery as well. Before we completely leave the area," Simmons mumbled into his cup.

"Seriously? Another?" Simmons could hear the exasperation in Grif's voice. He hated that he was bogging down their trip with his stupid genealogy hunt. But he needed to know, to see where these people had lived their own full lives.

"Yes, another," Simmons snapped. "It's on the way out of here."

"You do remember what's happened the last few days, right?"

"This one will be different," Simmons argued. "It looks maintained enough in the pictures to walk through. It should be a quick in and out. I swear."

"I'm not sure I should trust your promises much, given your luck."

"Oh, you could complain about anything," Simmons bit out.

\---

Well, Simmons fucked up again. He wasn't wrong, the cemetery was well maintained enough to walk through. Only one small problem. There was a fence. With a padlock. That neither of them had a key to.

The guy down the dirt road had said it was open to anyone that wanted to visit it. Clearly, no one has wanted to visit it in a while.

"Well," Simmons said dejectedly, "I guess we saw the cemetery and area."

"What?" Grif asked. "You aren't going to climb over?"

"Why would I, it's locked!" Simmons gestured towards the big lock on the gate they clearly couldn't break. 

"So? That gate is barely higher than your hips, I'm sure you can get over."

"But-"

"Simmons, we didn't drive out here just for your morality code to kick in. Especially when no one will care, it's not like you are trying to desecrate the place." 

Simmons eyed the gate wearily. He could pretty easily step over it, might take a few high kicks and getting his stomach pierced by the sharper points on top, but he could do it. 

"Oh, for God's sake," Grif exclaimed, "I will push you over myself. I know this means a lot to you so just climb the damn thing!"

"Alright!" Simmons pulled the gate as far as the chain wrapped around the opening would allow, stepping over it. This had to be one of the few times he was thankful for being a twig, he fit perfectly through with no problem. He lifted his other leg, the only thing left to get over. Sadly, he wasn't as flexible as he was skinny, and his foot caught on the chain, making him lose his balance and successfully hop a few feet before gravity kicked in and caused him to faceplant.

He heard Grif trying to hold in his laughter. "Oh yeah, fatass, I'd like to see you try-" Simmons turned his head to see Grif trying to fit through the bottom, shimming his way on the ground through the same opening in the fence.

"Grif, you're going to get stuck!"

"I'm not that fat!" Grif yelled back. Simmons ran up to the gate, pushing as much as he could to give Grif more space. Not that it did anything. 

Grif grunted as he pushed to get his upper body through. "Grif, I won't be able to get you unstuck, and I'd rather not try to call for help out here."

"I won't-get-stuck!" Grif popped through, curling his legs into his chest and bringing himself upright. "Phew! Alright, we're in. Who are we looking for today?"

Simmons showed him the photo of the headstone and they split up, circling the small cemetery. After having no success on the outskirts, Simmons decided to start plowing through the middle, seeing if any of them had a resemblance to who he was looking for. 

Simmons stopped in his tracks and scanned the area. He had the right place. It looked like the one from the aerial picture. But he didn't see the headstone anywhere. 

Maybe the person that had listed the grave was wrong? It hadn't been confirmed after all. 

"Simmons, back up." Grif's voice had risen, his earlier carefree tone now demanding. Simmons whipped around to see Grif staring somewhere down by his feet. 

"What is it? Is it a snake?" The way Grif didn't break his eye contact with the ground had Simmons' heart erratically thumping. "Where is it?!"

Grif kept his eyes locked on the ground as he instructed Simmons. "Don't look anywhere but me and come towards me. Now." As much as Simmons wanted to know what was going on, he picked up on the urgency in Grif's tone and quickly scurried behind Grif.

"What?! What is it?!" Simmons questioned, a slight shrill in his panicked voice. 

"It's a snake," Grif confirmed. "It's probably a nothing snake, but I'm not an expert on them." He turned and put a hand on Simmons' shoulder, adding patronizingly, "and we don't need you passing out, might I add _again_, from seeing a snake." 

"Oh, fuck you," Simmons brushed Grif’s hand off him. "Where is it?"

"Over on that grave," Grif pointed to where Simmons had roughly been standing, a long green body curved around the tomb. He felt his face pale, the head of the snake bobbing back and forth in mockery. "Looks like it might be a garden snake. But better safe than sorry," Grif said. 

"Yeah," Simmons sighed. This was the tamest cemetery they'd been at, and still, he and Grif needed to be on full paranoia alert. "I haven't been able to find the headstone either."

"Do you have the right cemetery?"

"I don't know. It wasn't confirmed. It may not be here." Simmons pointed at the snake. "Or it's under those tombs the snake is on."

"I doubt it looking at the picture." Simmons sighed again. Grif was right. It probably wasn't here. So they broke into a small cemetery that was nesting snakes for nothing. Fantastic. 

"Hey, at least you got to see the area," Grif said. Simmons could tell Grif was just trying to make light of the situation. Simmons had said the same thing earlier. Still, it would have been nice to see the headstone. 

"Yeah," Simmons said "at least I got to see what I did. I didn't think I'd see half of the graves we managed. So I guess we did good."

"See, that's the spirit!" Grif wandered back over to the gate, turning to Simmons with a sheepish grin.

"So...how do you reckon we get back out?"


	6. On The Surface, He Looks Calm and Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else do we throw poor Simmons' way?

“Simmons, we’ve passed at least five decent places to park, you’ve gotta just pick one dude.”

Simmons felt the low growl in his chest. Luckily, it didn’t come to full vocal fruition. But his remarks did. “Did you not see where they were? The car will get broken into!”

“Who would care to break into this piece of junk?”

“Anyone that gets a second to look inside and sees all our shit, that’s who!”

Grif huffed out, obviously annoyed at Simmons’ logic. “Can you just find a place to park, we’ve been circling the city for quite some time.”

Simmons bit back his retort, frustrated with the resulting conversation. Had Grif seriously not seen the graffiti raking the wall at the last spot? Or the fact that someone would back into their car to get out of the spot they saw before that? Did Grif ever stop to fucking think? No, of course not. It was always Simmons that had to be rational.

The traffic wasn’t making it better. Nor were all the one-way roads that narrowed into one small lane where Simmons couldn’t figure out how to get out of the stupid maze of a city. As Grif had stated, he had already passed a few spots. At this point, everything was starting to look good.

“Should we-e-e,” Simmons cleared his throat. Just cause traffic was freaking him out didn’t mean he needed to start stuttering again. “Should we look for the parking garages farther in the city again?”

“They’re too far to walk where we want to go, Simmons. Just go back towards where we were, I’m sure something has popped up by now.” Grif was staring intently out the passenger window, trying to feign nonchalance despite attempting to fix Simmons’ fuck up.

No, Simmons would find a better parking spot. He knew he could.

Just at this moment, in a place he didn’t know, with a street four lanes across that's only one-way, Simmons really wished it was Grif that was driving. He could feel his arms getting sore from the tension in them, his headache was knocking on his skull. He was pretty sure if he couldn’t find a spot this time around, his emotional stasis was going to be thrown out of whack enough to start a mild crying streak. After having several adrenaline spikes and anxiety attacks over the trip, not to mention little to no sleep from the itching that was _still_ fucking plaguing him, he was close to another breakdown. He was exhausted and the stress of just finding a place to just stop moving was taking its toll. 

Simmons saw another sign pointing towards more parking. This time it looked hopeful, maybe a parking garage, maybe a lot. Who knows, but they needed something by now.

“I think the road ahead is where we came from-”

“Puh,” Simmons tried to get out. “Puh,” he tried again. His mind couldn’t catch up to his mouth. His nerves were shot, he could feel the build-up inside him and he couldn't release it yet. “Puh, puh, puh.” He pointed at the sign. Simmons wanted nothing but to park and take a goddamn break, he had been reduced to a stuttering mess and the realization of it was just feeding his anxiety. 

“I see the sign, Simmons, it’s ok, just drive to it.” Simmons lowered his arm, unsure if he should try to speak again for fear of just stuttering over the next word. He already had a hard enough time not slurring words when talking at lightning-fast speeds, now his stuttering seemed to be making a comeback. 

He opted for silence as he let his brain travel at full velocity, not stopping its rattling remarks. By the time he pulled up to the booth for what appeared to be a small parking lot, it had exhausted itself to where it felt like a pile of liquid goo in his head.

“Hello,” Simmons managed to say. “Is, uh, is there, uh, you know.” He gestured towards the lot in front of him, hoping the guy would take the hint and not make him say anything more.

“Yes, it’s ten dollars, there are a few spots in the back.” Simmons nodded, Grif handing him the payment so he didn’t have to go dig for it. He was handed the ticket and managed to almost clip several vehicles in the crowded place as he made his way to the nearest spot.

So much for finding a place that wouldn’t get the car hit.

He put the car in park, letting his body slump against the back of the seat. The sound of laughter being forcibly held in made him turn his head towards Grif’s direction.

“I’m sorry,” Grif wheezed out. “It’s not you, I’m just,” he cackled, bent over his knees. Even though Simmons was fairly certain he was being laughed at, he couldn’t help but break down into hysterics with Grif. They sat there laughing until both of their sides hurt, tears trailing down their faces.

“Boy, talk about being so stressed and tired you are reduced to hysterics,” Grif commented.

Simmons chuckled. At least Grif was there to alleviate the situation. He already felt better, more relaxed, and less anxious. He was glad someone was around him that gave him that effect. It made the rest of the day more enjoyable, that’s for sure.


	7. Bop It, Twist It-Not That!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons potentially flares up an old injury.

They continued on their road filled journey. Simmons was leaning back, going in between a fuzzy daze and listening to the soft music playing from the radio. Every once in a while, the urge to itch the bites that seemed to be permanently there hit him, but they were healed enough to where he could just dig his fingernails into his arms and wait it out. 

Grif was mouthing the words to the song on the radio, one Simmons recognized as an older electronic tune similar to what he had heard the man listen to in his free time. He used to give Grif shit for his music tastes. Now, he kinda liked the consistent beats and drops, somehow they were soothing, even though the music itself obviously wasn’t meant to be. 

Grif’s voice broke Simmons out of his reverie. “Can you reach for a soda in the ice chest?”

Simmons rolled his eyes at the fatass as he twisted around, trying to fumble with the sealed lid. His arm was angled in an odd position though. He wasn’t going to get any leverage to open it sitting in the passenger's seat. He lifted himself out of his seat, twisting to face the chest as best as he could, still within the confines of his safety belt.

A small cramp began expanding rapidly in his back until his whole lower half was practically spasming. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, untwisting himself and holding the part that was burning. What else? What else could go wrong with him this trip? Why couldn’t he have a day to be normal?

“What?” Grif asked. 

“Nothing,” Simmons said, massaging the area that was tense with his fist. “My back just cramped from the twist I did, that’s all.”

He noticed Grif frown. “Are you ok? I still remember when your rib ended up dislocating. That wasn’t terribly long ago.”

Simmons grimaced at the memory of a couple of his ribs shifting from a weird twist he did lifting an object that wasn’t even all that heavy. How he had to sit and stand ramrod straight if he didn’t want to be in immense pain. How he couldn’t curve or twist his back in the slightest for days without crying. He had done his back exercises though. It shouldn’t be a problem anymore.

“I don’t think anything that extreme should happen to my back for a while,” Simmons said. “I just held that weird position for a bit without thinking. No need to worry.”

“Simmons, there is always a reason to worry with you.” Simmons looked down at the floorboard of the car, aware of just how many times Grif had panicked over him during the trip alone. For stupid stuff that wasn’t even all that bad. Mental breakdowns, anxiety attacks, unknown bug bites, passing out. He was just waiting for a stroke or seizure to take hold. “Hey, don’t get all sad. I don’t mind worrying over you.” Grif’s hand came into Simmons’ vision, nearly whacking him in the face.

“What’s that for?!” Simmons practically shrieked.

“I was trying to ruffle your hair, but it's kinda hard to find the top of your head when I’m driving.”

Simmons brushed the hand away from him, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Just keep your eyes on the road, dumbass.”

“That was why I accidentally slapped you in the first place, kiss ass.”

Simmons chuckled. His back still hurt, but it was slowly dissipating as the ride continued. At least this time he knew for a fact it wasn’t his rib. The pain was too far away from his spine. But he decidedly sat in as close to a straight-backed position he could until the tension finally started to lessen. He would be fine. After all, he always was. Wasn’t he?


	8. We All Fall Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the back pain, Simmons experiences more pain.

Simmons knew he should have told Grif to pull off at the gas station. He had been so focused on his back, he didn’t even register the blood sugar drop he was having. 

Now they were in the park, with no available food in the car because the fatass ate it all an hour ago. Simmons’ stomach lightly rumbled, but he knew better. If he didn’t have food in the next fifteen to thirty minutes, it would go from a low rumble to a body crushing desire in which the only thing that will occupy his mind will be getting his hands on food, his stomach spasming and him crying until he finally got some.

Simmons ruffled around behind him in the car, desperate to find anything of sustenance. All he was able to find was a small soda, one that somehow didn’t make it into the damn ice chest. 

“What are you looking for?” Grif asked him.

“Huh?” Simmons hummed out. He didn’t want to worry Grif. Even if he said he didn’t mind worrying over Simmons, there was no reason to cause any more panic. There wasn’t anything to worry about, the sugar in the soda should trick his body the remainder of the hour they were planning on being here. “Oh, just something to drink. Found another soda, I’m good.”

Grif sent an approving nod towards him. Simmons opened the soda and downed the whole thing. All he could do was pray that it did the trick.

The park had been gorgeous. Grif had been adorable, trying to take selfies and document every small landmark they saw. Simmons did enjoy it. 

But do you know what would have made him enjoy it more?

If he had food in his stomach.

Simmons tried to shake the thought out of his mind. There weren’t a whole lot of overlooks at this park. He could hang on. Grif was bound to get hungry soon as well, the larger man always had to eat practically on the hour. Simmons could give it a bit longer. 

Until he realized that he couldn’t enjoy what they were looking at anymore. Sure, it was all pretty. But he wasn’t feeling all that good. Each turn Grif made in the car, Simmons could feel his stomach being crumpled into a small ball. The car swerved. His headache from previous days was slowly making a comeback. The stabbing behind his left eye blossomed into an ever-growing pounding sensation. 

He sometimes got motion sick. Not bad. Usually, the headache and tightening of the stomach were normal. Simmons would just look out the window and bring his legs up to his chest. It was no biggie. It would go away.

Except for it wasn’t going away. Simmons could feel small shakes racking his body. Another swerve. The tightening in his abdomen was rapidly turning into nausea. The seatbelt was too tight. He was going to throw up. Oh god, he was going to throw up in the car. What would he even throw up? He didn’t have anything in his stomach.

He could feel all of it. Motion sickness. Hunger. Blood sugar crash. It was making him intensely sick. Just one of those things would have whacked him out. All of them combined. He didn’t know what was happening. 

It must have been noticeable. Grif pulled off at one of the outlooks, worry outlining his face. “Simmons, you look pale. Like, actually paler than you naturally are. Are you ok?”

Simmons opened the car door and leaned out, fairly certain he was going to throw up then and there. What would come up was a mystery to him, but he knew something was coming. He shook his head no, hoping the message would be received by Grif. It must have been. He felt the car get put into park and the driver’s door open. Footsteps approached him and a soothing hand was on his back.

“Hey, are you going to throw up?” Grif asked. 

Simmons shrugged. “I feel like it. But there isn’t anything in my stomach to throw up. I just...I don’t know. I feel awful.”

Grif was quiet for a moment before speaking up. “Do you think you can survive the drive out of here to the nearest gas station? Try to get some food in you?”

He didn’t feel up for that at all. The thought of the car moving again made his stomach churn. But he nodded. He knew he needed something in him. He forced himself to turn his body back into the car, now in drive and going faster than it had before. Simmons kept his head between his legs, eyes closed, focusing on his breaths and doing everything he could to ward off the onslaught of tremors.

He was like that for quite some time. It probably felt longer than it was. But eventually, the motion stopped. Grif got out and locked the car, leaving Simmons huddled over his legs. The wait for the return of his boyfriend also felt longer than it probably was. Grif nonetheless showed up with sandwiches and cookies. Simmons thought he was barely going to get a couple of bites down with how terrible he felt.

His blood sugar drop must have been so bad it was the sole reason he felt so awful. The motion had just slightly added to it. For he wolfed down his sandwich faster than Grif did. That never happens.

“Feeling better?” Grif asked. Simmons nodded vigorously, attacking the cookies next, thankful that Grif was somehow insanely perceptive of when Simmons was going downhill, either physically or mentally. “That’s a relief. For a moment I wasn’t sure if you were actually sick. That would have sucked.”

“Yeah,” Simmons agreed, looking over at his significant other with affection. “It would have.”


	9. In The End, It Doesn't Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simmons worries, but fear not, he has no reason to.

The remainder of the trip finished up with no more problematic situations. The only other close call was Grif running out of Oreos, despite having a conglomerate of other food in the vehicle. Seriously, how Grif managed to live as long as he had running on nearly nothing but Oreos, Simmons couldn’t understand.

The fact that nothing else happened though didn’t help with the fact that Simmons knew how much of a wimp he was. Nearly every other day, or at least each week, he had bitched, cried, moaned, whined about such small things. And Grif had helped him through. But Grif didn’t need to put up with someone like him. Someone completely neurotic.

“You have that faraway look again, Simmons,” Grif said, lying on the bed next to him, apparently starting at him. Simmons turned his head on the pillow. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Simmons lied. “Just...daydreaming, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Simmons shrugged. He knew Grif would oppose each opinion of himself. There wasn’t any point in talking about any of it. They were usually pretty good at not talking about things. That was how their friendship had been. 

It seemed that Grif had other ideas now though. 

“You know, you don’t have to struggle on your own. I’m here for you.” Simmons looked up at his boyfriend, Grif’s hand coming up to ruffle his hair. “I always have been. I know we usually don’t talk about stuff, but that doesn’t mean we can’t.”

He stared at Grif, unsure of what to say to that. Thanks, but I don’t want to talk? But I do? But if you know every little thing I think, you’ll abandon me? Even though that hasn’t been proven true once and I’m just scared of nothing? But still scared because of the small, small, small chance you do leave? 

His internal spiral was interrupted by Grif’s lips meeting his forehead, his hands continuing to play with Simmons’ hair. He could feel it. The comfort, the protection, the love this man oozed, trying to get the point across to Simmons that everything was, and always would be, ok. 

Simmons sat in the silence, mulling over how Grif was always there for him. He always had been before they declared each other partners. But it had been more apparent than ever on this trip, where nearly every day something bad managed to sneak its way towards him. And they worked through it. Together. With every ounce of support and affection that could be given. He could only hope he could return the same to Grif in equal measure if similar situations happened to him.

He didn’t have to imagine it though. He knew he would be there for him. Grif meant more to him than he’d ever willingly admitted. They would always support each other, as they had before. No amount of bad luck or problems could change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic ended up a bit disjointed with each event, but I figured it was best to put it in a whole story since, after all, all of the things that happened in this did happen to me in one way or another (just didn't have a loving partner to help me through it, but I had a family member, so I had help). I hope you enjoyed the fluff, I usually write darker stuff but I figured a little hurt/comfort wouldn't be so bad. :)


End file.
